


I Can't Sleep in the Wake of Saturday (DOMINICK "SONNY" CARISI)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit RPF
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Word count: 1393</p><p>Requested: Yes</p><p>Warnings: Small mention of an assault, but nothing too graphic.</p><p>I love Sonny Carisi lmao even tho this is kinda bad but</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Can't Sleep in the Wake of Saturday (DOMINICK "SONNY" CARISI)

It had been a week since you had been pulled from your undercover gig, a week since you had been to work.

Nearly a week since you had _slept_.

Of course the doctor said that the flashbacks, the anxiety would go away.

The doctor lied, a lot. You didn’t like to dwell on what happened, just remembering that it had been a week made you sick to your stomach on a Saturday morning when you were supposed to be able to get out of bed, go see your team, hangout with them.

Instead you stayed in bed all day, under the covers, afraid to be out of bed. You weren’t necessarily afraid of the world, just your apartment that seemed too empty, too cold, too spacious. You wanted someone there with you- but who?

Amanda, she was with her baby.

Fin, well, he was Fin and he wasn’t all for that lovey-dovey stuff you needed.

Olivia, she was with her baby, just like Amanda.

Dodds? You hadn’t known him long enough.

That left Carisi; you called him Sonny because he wanted you to, but the thought of inviting him over to your house? It didn’t settle right with you. But, in a way, it did. He had always been there for you more than the others, hands lingering on your shoulders, eyes lingering on any exposed skin you may have shown when stretching; he seemed to gravitate toward you.

So you peeled yourself from the bed and grabbed your phone, ringing Sonny on his cell. It took a few rings and while you waited, you curled up in the blankets on your bed to try and removed the cool that had settled in your body.

“Yeah?” It was a simple greeting, one that you would expect from Sonny. “What’s up?” You hadn’t actually believed that Sonny would pick up, so you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say.

“I can’t sleep,” It sounded more pitiful than in your head, but once you said the words you couldn’t take them back.

Sonny just laughed, “I would hope so. It’s nearly noon. Are you getting old, Detective?” The jab made you smile, eliciting a laugh from you, “I get it, I do. You haven’t been able to sleep in a while have you?”  
  
“Not since Saturday,” You hadn’t meant to confess that, but you did and you couldn’t take it back, “This is going to sound pathetic, but I need something to get me to sleep.”

“And I’m the person you called to help you? Why not someone more,” He made a strangled noise, you know, the ones that Italian’s make in the movies, “Maternal.” He chose his wording carefully, fully knowing you should have called Olivia; or, perhaps, the psychologist she ordered you to visit.

“Olivia is with Noah. I don’t want to break that up for something as stupid as sleep.”  
  
“Hey, hey, hey,” Sonny cut you off, “Sleep is important. You need sleep, especially in our line of work.” You nodded, fully aware that he wouldn’t see you. You didn’t care, though, it was an empty gesture meant to comfort yourself. “I’ll be right over.” It was finite, Sonny was going to be at your apartment and you were still a mess of gauze and anxiety, but you knew that he was going to quell all of that with one of his arms wrapped around you, possibly with your legs intertwined under the covers.

Or maybe he was just going to feed you, because that’s what Sonny did. He fed people, cooked them food and stuck around to watch them eat it just so he could make sure that their bellies were full and they were, uh, fat and happy for lack of a better phrase.

You would be fine with either because you hadn’t really eaten anything, either, and just thinking about Sonny’s cooking, learned from his Mother when his sisters didn’t want to, made your stomach growl. A cuddle or a home cooked meal?

A win or a win, either way.

So that’s why when Sonny showed up with a pizza, the steam rolling off of the top, you were surprised. Was he going to drop off the pizza and dash? You wouldn’t blame him. You hadn’t been anything but a nuisance since your attack while you were undercover, but maybe that was the lack of sleep speaking.

You were barely out of bed, one leg pushed out from underneath the covers when Sonny waved at you with one large hand. You sucked the limb back in, looking at Sonny with question in your eyes. He kicked the door shut behind him, setting the pizza down on your nightstand before he moved to shut your curtains and you were glad that you had chosen to buy the blackout curtains in your favorite color. Sonny seemed to appreciate that and he looked back at you and saw that your eyes were less squinted, more relaxed.

He grinned and, without speaking, tossed off his shoes and socks. He was in sweatpants, a rare sight you drank up and saved in your memory, so that was no trouble. He nudged you over in the cocoon of comforters you had made, bringing the pizza with him. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, shoulder bumping into his ribcage, before prying open the box and gesturing to the pie inside.

“Eat, you’ll feel better.”

“You think eating makes everything better, Sonny.” And with your offhanded comment and eyeroll his dimples came out to see you, a grin spreading wide on his face. You managed to eat one piece before you felt full, but you also felt tired and Sonny knew that because he placed the box on the floor, grabbing the remote to your television.

“See?” Sonny said, after the long silence of eating, “Eating does make everything better. You feel better, don’t you?” You nodded, trying not to smile and instead settling for a scowl. He knew he had won and to celebrate he pulled you further into the mass of covers, bending and twisting his body until you were both twined with one another. He knew just how to make you feel better, feel flustered. The movie he put on was one of those Hallmark movies, the sappy ones that you didn’t have time to watch while you were working.

But you weren’t.

And Sonny was with you.

So you were watching them and you were cuddling with him, and your body was finally relaxing, mind finally stopping. Sonny’s arms were wound around you, dropping the remote on the covers before he shifted and pulled you closer, your bodies slipping together nearly perfect.

“Why did you come?” You asked, eyes closing as you pushed your cheek into his chest, “I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?” Sonny sassed, like the answer was obvious and you were daft for not seeing it, “I came because I want to make you feel better. Because you were going through a rough patch. And I get it, I get what it’s like to come out from a deep undercover job.” You sighed and Sonny seemed to twist his legs through yours, pulling you closer.

“You know that’s not what’s keeping me from coming back.”

“I know,” His chest rumbled as he spoke harshly, voice echoing in your room. And then softer, he said, “I know, okay? We know what happened, we know that you’re struggling. I want to help you. There’s nothing more I want than to help you.”  
  
If you had spoken any louder than a whisper, your voice would have broken, “Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Sonny pushed you back, to look at your face, “Okay? I want to be here, now, if I didn’t? You would have something to thank me for. But I want to be here.”  
  
“Why?” You hadn’t had time to think your words through, and the question slipped through your mouth before you could stop it, “I mean, why didn’t you just send someone else to search the apartment and then leave? Why didn’t you just leave after you brought the food?” Sonny grinned and pulled you back to his chest, securing you in his arms. Strong, solid arms that made you feel safe and protected.

“I think you know why.”


	2. Sometimes We Take Action, Sometimes We Take Pills (DOMINICK "SONNY" CARISI)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 1458
> 
> Requested: Yes
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of an attack, PTSD, anxiety, mentions of drinking and alcohol abuse
> 
> bless whoever asked for a second part to this

You were back at work, relieved and shaking.

You had missed going in everyday, putting the bad guys away and keeping Manhattan safe, but you hadn’t missed the harsh voices and the threats you received from the suspects. They lunged for you, spat at you, and it caused you to shake and quiver as if you were back in the house where you were attacked.

Sonny was watching you, making sure that you weren’t too far gone, but you reassured him that you were fine. You were okay, you were safe and you weren’t going to break down again.

Until the end of the day.

It was nearly eight at night and usually you would have been home, but Olivia had asked you and Sonny to stay after to interrogate a suspect and then do some paperwork. He, of course, had tried to reject her orders, say that he had to get you home because you were still healing, but you had shaken your head and convinced her otherwise.

So that’s why you were sitting in front of a man that had raped seven four year olds and killed two of them. He disgusted you, made your stomach coil, but even more so when the man reached out and grasped your wrist with incredible force. You gasped and stood, trying to yank your arm from the grip in a panic and you wouldn’t have escaped but Sonny slammed his fist down on the man’s forearm and then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, nearly bashing the back of the pedophile’s head in when he threw him into the wall.

You slipped out of the room while Sonny was yelling at him, throwing insults and threats his way but you didn’t care. You pushed into Olivia’s darkened office, knowing that she would be pissed at you, but you didn’t care.

You knew where she had kept the Scotch, mostly because Barba told you, so you grabbed the biggest of the three bottles and crawled under her desk.

It was a childish thing to do, but you didn’t care. With your back to the hardwood, walls on either side of you, you felt calm surface in your belly. Maybe the scotch would make you feel better- that’s why you had grabbed it, right? You cracked it open and took a long pull from the bottle, warmth spreading from your mouth to your throat, to your stomach. It made you feel better, but also guilty for leaving Sonny with the man who had triggered your…. Anxiety attack? No, what you were feeling was more so linked to your PTSD from the attack.

A PTSD attack?

Either way, you didn’t really give a shit.

You heard the holding cell slam shut and closed your eyes, hoping that Sonny didn’t find you. He didn’t need to see you with tears on your cheeks, alcohol in your bloodstream. He needed to see you when you were strong, unbroken.

Not crying under a desk in the dark.

It was like Sonny knew you were there, though, like he smelt the scotch on your breath from outside of the room. You knew it was probably because you had left the door open, so what if you wanted to think that it was because he knew you like the back of his hand?

Neither of you spoke as he tried to fold his body to fit next to yours, eventually settling for extending his legs out from under the desk and hunching over in a manner that seemed very, very uncomfortable.

You were just glad he was there, even if you were slightly pissed off that he took your scotch, putting it out of your reach. “Sonny, please give it back.” Your voice seemed dead and he picked up on that, catching the hand that was reaching for the alcohol with his own, fingers filling the spaces between your own. He held your hand in his lap, caressing the skin on the back of it with his thumb, bringing it up to his lips to leave a kiss.

You sighed and let your head fall onto his shoulder.

“You don’t need it,” He whispered, “I promise. Please don’t start drinking to cope with what happened to you.”

“Who says I’m doing it to cope?” You snarked, but then shook your head, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Sonny chuckled sarcastically and turned his head to press his nose against your hairline.

“I know. You’re… You’re wigging out,” He snuffed air out of his nose in something that mimicked a laugh. “Besides, we’re under a desk. That’s coping enough.”  
  
“I feel safe here.”  
  
“I understand,” Sonny grasped your hand tighter, kissing it once more, “I do. Surrounded on three sides, able to see everything in front of you. That’s why my bed is in the smallest room of the house, against the wall.” You nodded and pressed a kiss to Sonny’s shoulder, the warmth radiating off of him something that you had come to love in the time you had been at home healing. “But are you okay? Are you really okay?”

The answer would be weighted with either a lie or the truth and you weren’t sure which was worse. What did Sonny want to hear? Did he want to hear that you were fine and it was just the hand constricting your wrist that had made you panic or did he want to hear that you weren’t okay, not ready to go back to work?

What did you want to say?

Sonny felt your body start shaking again and he let go of your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer to his hunched form. He pressed his lips to your forehead, lips cold against yours. You weren’t sure why his lips were always so cold when the rest of his body was always warm. You didn’t let that stop your from sighing, relaxing into the comfort and intimacy of the embrace he had you encircled in.

“I’m not okay,” You finally answered, voice shaking, “But I’m on my way to okay, Sonny. I’m nearly there, it’s just, when that fucker grabbed me I… I…”

“You freaked out,” Sonny’s voice was soft, like he understood, “You don’t have to be ashamed of it,” He was speaking into your forehead, words rumbling through your skull in a manner that would have been annoying if it were anyone else doing it. “I don’t care that you freaked out. I just care that you’re okay and you’re not drinking the nightmares away.”

You pulled back your head to look Sonny in his eyes, “How did you know about the nightmares?”

“You aren’t the only one who has gotten hurt undercover,” Sonny said after a prolonged silence, “I still get nightmares about when I got hurt, but they get better. It gets better, I promise you.” You nodded, unable to take your eyes off of Sonny’s. He was magnetic and you wanted to kiss him, but you knew that it would be wrong to do it when you were emotionally and mentally compromised. When your PTSD was too bad to function at work.

There was no healthy way to start a relationship when you were going through hardships. It wasn’t fair to Sonny, and it wasn’t fair to you. If you wanted something with him, you wanted it to be healthy and stable.

“I want to kiss you, but I can’t.” You said. You hadn’t really meant to, but the words were already out there, in the air. They were already being processed by Sonny, being digested in his head.

“I know you can’t. I wouldn’t let you kiss me if you tried. I was raised better than that.” You blushed and nodded, well aware that Sonny was raised to be a proper gentleman. He held your hand and kissed your forehead, he didn’t let you get wasted like you wanted to. He kept you calm even after you had been in the middle of a breakdown.

He crawled under a desk that he didn’t actually fit under to make sure you were okay.

“Thank you,” It was the only thing you could think to say, and it seemed to speak more than just what it normally said. “I mean it, Sonny. This means so much to me.”

“I know,” He whispered, pressing another kiss to your forehead, hand rubbing your shoulder, “I want you to know that this, talking, is the best thing you can do. It’s better than drinking, better than pretending you never got attacked. When you’re feeling scared or alone, I want you to talk to me. Can you do that?”

You nodded and Sonny grinned at you.

“Thank you.”


	3. You're The Only Place I Want To Be (DOMINICK "SONNY" CARISI)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 1412
> 
> Requested: Yes
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of sex, PTSD, PTSD attacks and slight anxiety
> 
> hoooo boy i do love sonny carisi

The bed was still warm, but it was empty. You stretched and groaned, limbs extending to try and find Sonny but to no avail. He was gone, no note, but you could hear the pattering of him in the kitchen as he made breakfast. **  
**

The thought made you smile.

You had been seeing Sonny three months, but hadn’t made anything official. When you stood you felt the soreness in your bones, clothing hanging loosely on your body, and something inside of you bent a little bit.

The soreness reminded you of something not so nice, not anything to do with Sonny or what you had done the night prior. It sent your heart pounding and your world spinning, your body sitting back down so you could put your head between your knees.

Which, you know, didn’t really work. The pull on your back only made the memories worse, made the flashbacks worse, feeling the hands on you, pushing you, attacking you and the door to the bedroom opened, Sonny pushing through it with a tray in his hands.

He mumbled your name under his breath before setting the tray down on the ground, rushing toward you and running an arm over your shoulders, “What’s wrong?” He mumbled, head nudging against yours.

“Ah, it’s. Nothing.” You mumbled, biting down on your lip as you tried to make yourself seem normal, “I’m fine, Sonny.” He shook his head and then leaned over and kissed you, quick and sweet. “I promise.”

“I know you’re not okay. I can see you shaking.” You leaned into Sonny, his arms encasing you wholly. He sighed as he hefted your legs into his lap until you were curled in his lap. “If I did anything out of line last night I am so sorry,” Sonny’s voice was shaking as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,”

But you shook your head and tried to cling harder to Sonny, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. “You didn’t, I swear. It wasn’t you, I promise.” He didn’t seem to understand why your body was shaking, but he didn’t care. Everything in Sonny’s head was about making sure you were comfortable, you weren’t hurting because of him. “I promise, Sonny. Not you. Me. All me.”

“It’s not you.”  
  
“It is me. My PTSD. Every bit of this is me. I can’t even- I can’t-” Sonny shushed you and moved until he was laying down on the bed once more, tucking the blanket around the both of you as his arms wind around your waist. You shuffle closer to him, burying your face in his naked chest as you sigh and try to fight away the urge to run and hide, the urge to leave Sonny behind so you could deal with the shit in your head. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Sonny shushed you and pressed his palms flat against the small of your back, lips finding purchase on your forehead once more, “You don’t have to apologize for this. If you were _uncomfortable_ ,” Sonny says the word like he’s committed a crime and maybe he feels as if he has, “You should have told me. I would have stopped, it would have been okay. Please tell me. I am so sorry.”  
  
“Sonny,” You grasped the side of his face with one of your hands, forcing him to look at you, “You did nothing wrong. I wanted it, okay? Every moment of it. If I would have wanted you to stop I would have. I promise you. This is just me, not being over what happened to me. This is my PTSD. I promise. It’s not,” You softened your voice and gently pressed your lips to his. Sonny pressed back, sighing through his nose.

“You swear?” And all you could do was nod because Sonny pressed your face to his chest once more, weaving his legs with yours as he made sure to press his lips to the top of your head. “I’m sorry that you’re still… You’re still suffering through this. I should have been there. I know that I was in interrogation, but I should have been there. I could have protected you.”

“Nobody could have protected me.” You mumbled into his chest, kissing it. He shivered under the cool touch of your lips as you kept kissing, hands finding purchase on Sonny’s ribcage, “I’m sorry I ruined your breakfast plans.” You had finally remembered the tray of food Sonny had entered with, steam once rolling off of it.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not worried about some silly eggs when you’re right here and you need help.” You smiled and he felt it on his chest, legs and arms pulling you closer, “Besides, I can put the food in the microwave. I can’t put you back in your mind.”  
  
“Sure you can. You have, already. That night in Olivia’s office. The day you came over, right after my attack? And now. You’re putting me back in my head everyday just by being with me.” Sonny nearly lost his breath, and you had nearly lost yours as his arms tightened once more. You suspected that he didn;t know what to say because, while you were going on dates and regularly being intimate, you had never slept over, nor had you slept with him prior. Sonny hadn’t made you official, but neither had you, so you had no way of understanding that Sonny was feeling the same rush of warmth in his chest that you were.

“You keep me grounded. I almost… I almost transferred out of Manhattan SVU a couple of days before you were attacked.” You frowned and scooted up until you could look Sonny in the eye, your body still twined with his.

“Why?”  
  
“I didn’t feel like I was fitting in. You were already so close with everyone and then Amaro left and tensions were high and Amanda had a kid and even though it had been awhile since I came on as part of the team I felt like I was the odd guy out.

“I’m always too loud, you know? And I kept putting my foot in my mouth because Amaro got everyone to lay off but when he left it was back to square one. I was the detective who didn’t understand anything anymore. So I was going to leave but then you got attacked and I knew I couldn’t.

“I felt like if I left it would be sick and I wouldn’t be any better than the fuck who attacked you. So I stayed. And then you invited me over and I couldn’t say no because you needed me and I needed you. And then you kept needing me and I kept needing you and I had never, ever expected that before. I thought that you would heal and I would transfer out and everything would be fine and dandy. But then you asked me out to pizza and I couldn’t say no, could I?

“And now it’s been three months, nearly four, and I can’t imagine being somewhere without you. I don’t understand it, I can’t figure out why I feel like this but I want to thank you. Thank you for being here for me and allowing me to be here for you.” You were awestruck because Sonny hadn’t really spoken that much about his emotions before, but you were glad he did.

“I don’t think you understand how much I care about you,” It was your turn to speak, but it only came across in a whisper, “I can’t thank you enough for being here while I heal. It takes so much for me to open up to you, and you make it so easy.

“When Amaro left I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I didn’t think I had a friend in the world, but then you came when I called. I am so happy that you came through for me. Thank you, Sonny. Thank you so much.”

Sonny kissed you once more, but then you felt all of the emotion you had spoken seconds prior. He kissed you like he was drowning, like he was burning from the inside out, like he was soaring through space and stuck at the bottom of the ocean once more. Sonny kissed you like a living man who was dying, like a dying man who was living.

Sonny kissed you like he loved you.

And you kissed him the same way.


End file.
